


you might find yours

by idontshaveforsher_yesyoudo



Category: Crooked Media RPF
Genre: Fluff, Getting Together, LA Era (Crooked Media RPF), Multi, Mutual Pining, dc era, very little plot but a lot of
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-06
Updated: 2020-05-06
Packaged: 2021-02-26 18:51:48
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,195
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23844820
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/idontshaveforsher_yesyoudo/pseuds/idontshaveforsher_yesyoudo
Summary: Five (+ one) times someone misreads their relationship over the years. Featuring well-meaning strangers, lots of pining and being in denial, and a scene straight out of a rom-com.
Relationships: Ronan Farrow/Jon Lovett/Tommy Vietor
Comments: 15
Kudos: 49
Collections: Crooked Exchange 2020





	you might find yours

**Author's Note:**

  * For [whenlifehandsyou](https://archiveofourown.org/users/whenlifehandsyou/gifts).

> hey whenlifehandsyou, had a lot of fun writing this, I hope it’s somewhat what you were expecting ! 
> 
> title from a Tom Rosenthal song called "You Might Find Yours"
> 
> this is obviously very fictional, keep it secret y'all !

**1 - Lovett  
**

Lovett wakes up abruptly when someone jumps on his bed.

_Someone_ being Tommy, and, more specifically, a Tommy with wet hair that is dripping everywhere.

“The fuck?” Lovett utters, rather eloquently for a Sunday morning at – he squints at the alarm clock next to his bed – nine am.

“Let’s go. C’mon, you promised we’d get donuts today.”

“Did nosuch thin’,” Lovett mumbles - again, pretty eloquently for Sunday at nine fucking am.

Tommy punches his arm. He is still lying spread across Lovett and Lovett hates that his skin feels all tingly where they’re touching. He really, really doesn’t want to get into that right now, so he just focuses on exaggeratedly curling up in pain.

“Mister President! Roommate-abuse! Help!”

Tommy digs his fingers into his sides and Lovett definitely does _not_ shriek as he struggles out of Tommy’s hold and tumbles off the bed. As he is lying on the floor, Tommy’s face appears above him from atop of the bed. He’s grinning and Lovett hates him because this whole situation is really not fair at all. Lovett can hardly say no to anything Tommy asks of him on a normal day, much less on a Sunday morning when he is confronted with a Tommy who has, for once, actually slept enough and is buzzing with too much energy to spare.

“Can we go get donuts now? Also, POTUS likes me better, he’d definitely be on my side.”

“He does not! You can ask him at work tomorrow.” Lovett decides that it’s of no use trying to resist the onslaught of Tommy Vietor beaming at him any longer. Instead, he gets up from the floor and rummages through the pile of clothes on his floor, looking for a pair of shorts. “You can pay me the damages for your slander in donuts.”

“Great. Let’s go.” Tommy is still grinning as he flops onto his back, spread out on Lovett’s bed. Lovett ignores the flip his stomach does at the sight.

He raises his eyebrows. “You do know that you actually need to get up from the bed if you want food sometime this morning?”

Eventually, Tommy gets out of Lovett’s bed, Lovett gets dressed, they manage to find their wallets and keys and to leave the house and walk the two blocks to Tommy’s – and, incidentally, Lovett’s – favourite café for lazy Sunday mornings.

It is surprisingly empty, but Lovett guesses that’s what they get for arriving right between the early morning rush and the later brunch crowd they’re usually in. They split up, Tommy going to the counter to order and Lovett moving across the room to claim a table at the window that just opened up.

He scrolls through his phone for a few minutes, checking the news, then realises that today is his day off, which makes it the only day of the week he doesn’t have to do that. So, he puts down his phone on the table and watches Tommy at the register. The barista is clearly flirting with him, throwing her long hair over her shoulder and giving him a big, toothed smile. Lovett can’t really blame her. With his tousled hair and slightly-too-big sweater, Tommy looks like something straight out of a rom-com.

But sadly – for the barista, not for Lovett – Tommy just smiles at her politely as he orders, then makes his way to where Lovett is sitting, carrying a tray with their donuts.

“She’ll bring the coffees over in a sec,” he says.

Lovett waggles his eyebrows. “And I’m guessing her number, too?” Better to joke about it than to think too long about how his roommate constantly gets flirted with by people who aren’t _him_, he figures.

Tommy scoffs as he reaches out for a donut. “I don’t know what you mean.”

Lovett gives him a pointed look, but Tommy just presses his lips together in a _this-topic-is-over_ kind of way.

So, instead of pursuing it any further, he follows Tommy in biting into one of the donuts. They really are delicious and probably worth getting woken up this early on a Sunday. He won’t admit that out loud, though. He definitely doesn’t want Tommy making a habit out of spending all his Sundays with him, including coming into his room to wake him up way too early to get donuts together. And even if he did, which he definitely does _not_, no-one needs to know. Especially not Tommy.

“This really is the best stuff,” Tommy says, moaning around his pastry. It’s almost obscene. Once again, Lovett really, really hates him.

He hums in agreement, but his eyes are stuck to where there’s a rest of powdered sugar on the tip of Tommy’s nose.

“Mister Vietor,” he says, “I am appalled. Have you been doing any kind of white powder lately? What would POTUS think? I thought you were his favourite!”

Tommy giggles and wipes the back of his hand over his nose. The sugar stays there. “Did I get it?”

“Further down.”

“Here?”

“No, it’s –” Lovett acts out of reflex, not thinking for even a second about what he’s doing before he takes a napkin and brushes the sugar off of Tommy’s face.

Tommy is _very, very_ still.

Lovett is _very, very _careful as he tries not to notice how close his fingers are to Tommy’s cheek, how easy it would be to wrap his hand around the back of Tommy’s neck and pull him in close for a kiss.

“So, here I have your – oh, sorry, I didn’t mean to interrupt!”

Lovett pulls his hand back. Tommy’s head flies around to look at the barista, standing there with their coffees.

“No, that’s fine,” he says. His voice is barely shaking.

She puts the drinks down on the table, turns to leave, then turns back around to look at Tommy.

“Listen, I’m sorry about flirting with you earlier, I didn’t know you had a boyfriend. Enjoy your coffee.”

She’s off in the blink of an eye, leaving Lovett and Tommy in silence.

“Did she just think – “

Tommy leans back in his chair, exhales. “Uh, I think so, yeah?”

He looks as confused as Lovett feels, but then the reality of the situation sets in and Tommy begins to giggle. Lovett can’t help but join in.

“I gotta text Favs about this,” Tommy says between laughing and taking a sip of his drink.

Lovett decides to ignore the way his stomach twisted when the barista said, ‘boyfriend’. He absolutely does _not_ want to think about any kind of relationship with his friend, and a very much straight friend at that. It would be ridiculous to crush on said friend, and Lovett has _way_ too much common sense for it. He’s sure of it.

**2 - Lovett  
**

Lovett is tipsy.

Scratch that, Lovett is definitely on the right track to being absolutely fucking wasted, and he is having a really fucking great time.

He is back in DC for the weekend on a short visit that, so far, has consisted of two things; bothering Favs and Tommy as they try to work and, alternatively, making out with his still relatively new, very hot boyfriend Ronan.

Ronan, who for some unknown reason has decided that dating Lovett is a good idea, even if Lovett left for LA a couple months after they met and he himself will take off in a few weeks to fucking Oxford, England, of all places. Ronan, who is a twenty-something wunderkind, incredibly smart and thoughtful and fun to be around and with whom he can talk about video games for hours. Ronan, who is sitting across from him in a booth, cheeks flushed and hair mussed up, a lazy, drunken smile spread across his face.

Where Favs and the rest of the crew they came here with are, Lovett has no idea. The bar they’re in is one of the only somewhat acceptable bars in all of DC, so naturally, it’s packed on a Saturday night. If Lovett is being honest, he doesn’t really care all that much about where everyone is, not right now, not when Ronan is giggling at all his jokes and they’ve definitely had one too many drinks and he knows that Tommy is at the bar, getting them even more.

He’s in the middle of his rant about soulless DC contractors being like the dementors from Harry Potter that, somewhere along the way, derailed into a rant about jellyfish being the weirdest fucking thing in the world, when he is ever so rudely interrupted as he’s making a point about… something that is definitely incredibly important.

The intruder is a guy about his age, perfectly shaved and wearing a light blue button down with the top two buttons opened, clearly in an attempt to not seem too preppy. Lovett immediately dislikes him.

“Sorry to interrupt, just wanted to introduce myself,” the intruder says directed towards Ronan, completely ignoring that Lovett is _right there_.

“Uh, hi?” Ronan replies.

The intruder looks him up and down in a way that is decidedly not just friendly. “I’m Matt. I’d like to get to know you better.”

It’s clearly supposed to be flirty, but that line was so ridiculous that Lovett can’t even find it in himself to be jealous, even if Ronan’s cheeks are growing redder by the minute. He bites down on his lip to stop himself from laughing out loud and decides to lean back and see how this plays out.

“You see, I couldn’t help notice you from across the room and had to come over to talk to you. You’re really beautiful and that’s why you caught my eye. I do hope I’m not being too direct.”

The redness of Ronan’s face is about two shades off from a ripe tomato at this point. He throws Lovett a look that’s definitely a cry for help, but Lovett is enjoying this immensely and in no way wants to disturb the moment. Ronan looks really cute squirming like that, is all, even if he’s just squirming because someone is hitting on him with lines straight out of a bad romance novel.

However, help comes to Ronan in the form of Tommy returning with a tray filled with new drinks and two rounds of shots for the three of them. He sets it down on the table and drops down on the bench next to Ronan, throwing an arm around his shoulders.

“Sorry, the line was insane.”

For a moment, Lovett’s mind is focused on Tommy’s voice sounding even deeper than usual when he is drunk. Then he turns back to the situation at hand.

The intruder – Matt – starts sputtering.

“Oh, I do apologise, I didn’t know that you’re taken. I should probably leave.”

Ronan, impossibly, grows even redder as the guy makes a hasty exit and Lovett bursts out into laughter.

Tommy looks back and forth between the two of them with a frown. “What’d I miss?”

Lovett leans forward in his chair. “Well, my dear Tommy, this rather _dashing_ young man just made advances on our dear Ronan here but then thought that he was already taken by you.”

“Me? Why would he think that?” Tommy looks at him with his brow furrowed. His arm is still slung over Ronan’s shoulders and the two of them are sitting close enough for their thighs to touch. With their matching red cheeks and big, alcohol-fuelled grins, Lovett kind of gets what Matt saw in them. There’s a weird feeling in his gut, and he doesn’t think it’s jealousy, necessarily. He just really, really likes the view in front of him. He chooses to ignore this realisation and to do what he does best; deflect from his feelings by making jokes.

“Now don’t freak out on us. We both know you’re as straight as they come.”

Tommy’s eyebrows rise up at this and the corner of Ronan’s mouth twitches upwards where he’s still tucked against Tommy.

Lovett looks from one to the other.

“Did _I_ miss something?”

Tommy bites his lip, hesitates for a moment. Then, he says, “you do know I’m bi, right?”

Lovett’s whole world goes tipsy-turvy in the blink of an eye and he’s pretty sure it has nothing to do with the alcohol in his blood. 

“You’re –” his eyes flick from one to the other. They exchange a look. Lovett decides to cling to that. “And why, if I may ask, does Ronan know about this but I don’t?” Even by lingering on the fact that Tommy is not actually _as straight as they come_ for more than a few seconds, his head spins.

Tommy shrugs. “Don’t know. I never really wanted to hide it, it just never felt like the right time to bring it up.”

Ronan smirks into his lap. Tommy grins over at him, then continues, “Also, me and Ronan might’ve hooked up once or twice, back before you two knew each other.”

Lovett’s eyebrows shoot up through the roof. This is definitely not something he expected to find out tonight. He very much does not know how to react to the information that his boyfriend once hooked up with one of his best friends, who is also his roommate, who he also kind of, maybe, used to have a crush on.

Thankfully, alcohol exists.

Lovett grabs one of the shots, downs it without a word, pulls a face and takes a second one from the tray, holding it up this time. “Alright, then. A toast to Tommy being bi without me realising until I moved away, which means I couldn’t use the opportunity to bully him into coming to gay bars with me.”

Ronan and Tommy exchange another one of their _looks_, far too in sync for Lovett’s taste, even if he deep down definitely doesn’t _hate_ it. Then they both reach for a shot on their own, clinking glasses to each other.

“To Tommy being bi!” Ronan says.

Tommy grins at them, cheeks coloured in an adorable pink. “To me being bi!”

**3 - Ronan  
**

“I don’t even like wine,” Jonathan whines from where he’s curled up on the couch, diet coke in one hand and phone in the other. “Why the fuck would I go to a wine tasting with you? I don’t care that it was a gift from your fancy Oxford friends because you got a Pulitzer. Also, what has my life become that these are real discussions I have?”

“Yeah, listen, I know, but Paul and Emma have been asking about it every time we talk on the phone. I figured we don’t have anything else going on this Friday and I should probably cash it while I’m in LA for a longer time span.” Ronan frowns. He already made the reservation at the winery and doesn’t particularly feel like going there alone. Maybe he should’ve just regifted the voucher back when he got it.

“Listen, why don’t you ask Tommy to come with you? The two of you can have a nice date and talk about your favourite dry reds, or whatever.”

Ronan hums and pulls out his phone to text Tommy.

Tommy replies a few minutes later with a ‘hell yeah !!’, followed by several wine emojis, which settles it.

When Ronan’s Lyft pulls up to the winery’s address on Friday evening, Tommy is already there.

He’s wearing sunglasses and the setting sunlight makes his hair look more golden than usual. He looks good, Ronan notes as he makes his way over, all high cheekbones and broad shoulders under a tight T-shirt. LA suits him. Ronan also notes with delight that he’s wearing pink shorts. He wonders if he can snap a pic to send to Jonathan, who’s going to have a field day at the sight if he hasn’t already seen them.

Tommy grins when he sees him and raises his arm, waving as Ronan walks towards him.

“Hey,” he says and pulls Ronan into a hug.

“Hey!” Ronan smiles. “Thanks for coming with me on such a short notice. I wanted to take Jonathan, but you know how he gets about wine.”

Tommy laughs. “Yeah, I can imagine. He did at least three rants at work today about the two of us ganging up on him to destroy his taste buds.”

“Sounds similar to what I’ve been dealing with all week.” Ronan knows his face is scrunching up in what his mother calls his _Jonathan Face_.

“Alright then, shall we?” Tommy gestures towards the door of the winery.

Ronan follows his lead. Tommy holds the door open for him, and when they enter the cool room clad in stone and wooden tables to give it a sort of casual-chic look, Tommy’s hand rests on Ronan’s back for a moment. Ronan ignores how his skin prickles where they’re touching, even if it’s just through his T-shirt.

“Hi! Do you have a reservation?” A cheerful woman welcomes them, gets them seated at a table and brings them water and a basket of bread.

It’s then that Ronan realises he hasn’t eaten anything since around eleven that morning and it’s now five pm. He grins to himself. This should be fun.

Tommy gives him an inquiring look. “What is it?”

“I haven’t eaten anything since lunch. Are you ready to carry me home later?”

Tommy snorts. “Yeah, good luck with that. I haven’t eaten since lunch, either, and I haven’t been drinking regularly, lately. My tolerance is probably even shittier than yours.”

“We should just get Jonathan to pick us up,” Ronan says.

Tommy opens his mouth to respond but is interrupted by the cheery woman from before returning with a tray of a few wine glasses filled with white wine.

“Alright, so here’s our first selection, I’m gonna run you through them quickly, if that’s alright, but if you have any questions later feel free to ask any of our staff.”

She rattles down the wines and where they’re from. Ronan is halfway interested, understanding only the basics of what she’s talking about. His gaze drifts to Tommy, who is listening attentively, even asking a question somewhere along the way.

When the lady leaves, they get started on the first wine, clinking their glasses together.

“To good wine,” Tommy says.

“To good company,” Ronan replies, and he isn’t sure if he imagines it, but Tommy’s cheeks look slightly pinker at that.

The wine is good, Ronan has to admit. They’re on number three now and while he’s having a good time hanging out with Tommy and drinking good alcohol, Tommy’s clearly having an even better time, going on about random facts about the wine they’re drinking.

At one point, Ronan interrupts Tommy’s rant of what makes a barrique good and asks, “Do you really just know that much, or did you study up before we came here?”

Tommy grins. “I went to a shit-ton of wine tastings with my parents over the years. I picked up the jargon there.”

Ronan raises an eyebrow and picks up his last glass of the first round, holding it out for Tommy. “Alright, then. Teach me.”

By the time they’re on wine eight, both Tommy and Ronan are definitely more than a little tipsy. They’re making up dumb critiques for the wines Melanie, as they’ve now found out the cheery woman is called, keeps bringing them. At first, they made at least somewhat sense, but by this point they’re all about _the taste of cherry in the finish _and _the clear pine barrique of the Chardonnay_.

Melanie is clearly very amused at their giggling.

When she brings them their last glass of wine, she grins at them and says, “I have to say, you two are one of the cutest couples we’ve ever had here.”

Tommy catches Ronan’s eye. He’s clearly supressing his giggles, his cheeks tinged pink.

“Uh, thanks,” Ronan gets out. He can feel his own face heat up.

Melanie nods. “You two enjoy your last glass.”

She’s hardly two tables away from them when Tommy bursts out laughing, Ronan following suit.

“Can you believe she –” Tommy brings out between wheezes.

“She really thought –” Ronan stutters out between giggles.

“Man, that’s crazy.” Tommy takes a deep breath and Ronan straightens his back, trying to pull himself together, too. It’s a hard thing to do when everything is a bit softer around the edges, a bit blurry when he turns his head. It’s a hard thing to do when he’s looking at Tommy sitting across from him, glowing in the warm light, the corners of his eyes crinkled.

It’s a hard thing to do when he’s looking at Tommy, and Tommy is looking back.

“Remember when we used to hook up,” Ronan blurts out. He bites his lip. He doesn’t know why the thought just popped back into his head after all these years again.

Tommy’s smile at that is soft, his face wistful. “Yeah. Good times.”

“Good times,” Ronan echoes. A memory pops into his mind, suddenly, of Jonathan a few weeks ago. He got home from work and spent an hour ranting about Tommy’s shoulders in the tight sweater he wore that day. It’s not something particularly unusual, but Ronan wonders for a second if Jonathan felt similar to how he feels right now, something about the way his eyes catch on Tommy’s neck, his hands, the softness of his T-shirt. He wonders if Jonathan has been looking, too. He wonders of Tommy has been looking back.

Tommy sighs, audibly, then reaches out for one of the two glasses. “To good times,” he says, his voice soft.

Ronan takes his own glass and raises it to clink against Tommy’s.

They’re silent for a moment as they taste the wine, then Tommy says, “so this one clearly has a fruity body –” and the tension dissolves.

They’re still giggling by the time they leave the winery, both waving at Melanie. When they’re outside, Tommy throws an arm around Ronan’s shoulders.

Ronan follows him as they idly make their way down the street, no real goal in sight. It’s not completely dark yet, the sun hidden behind the hills but still high enough to give everything a softer hue, softer edges, including Tommy’s arm around Ronan and his quiet laughter in Ronan’s ear about nothing in particular. Maybe that’s just the wine talking. Ronan suddenly has a craving for chicken nuggets.

He voices this to Tommy, who grins. “You know what we should do? Call Lovett, make him pick us up and drive us home. We can get nuggets on the way.”

Ronan nods along. It’s an absolutely great plan. He takes out his phone, pulls up his texts to Jonathan. He realises that he’s received three pictures of Pundit over the course of the last hours. They’re adorable and he shows them to Tommy, who coos accordingly.

Then he composes a text that definitely does _not_ sound tipsy or have any spelling errors in it.

Jonathan texts back almost immediately, saying that he’ll come pick them up and that Ronan should send him their location.

Ronan does so and they sit down on a dry wall along the street. Tommy’s arm is still slung around him and it’s only reasonable that Ronan leans his head against his shoulder.

They sit in silence for the most part until Jonathan shows up twenty minutes later, pulling up to the curb right in front of them.

“Aren’t you two cute,” he says as he gets out of the car, curls in wild disarray, wearing sweatpants that are cut off just above his knees. He vaguely gestures in the direction of Tommy’s legs. “Love the shorts. Very LA.”

Tommy grins. “Very gay, right?”

Lovett’s eyebrows rise up. “Sure thing. Now, let’s get you two drunkards home. And what was that I heard about chicken nuggets?” He is smiling, his face scrunched up in fondness.

Ronan smiles back.

**4 - Tommy**

The date isn’t going bad, per se.

Joseph is nice, the kind of man to hold up the door for his date and maybe even pull out their chair. He talks about his job but also listens attentively when Tommy talks about Crooked and his friends, asking thoughtful questions and nodding along as Tommy answers. He’s also really cute, all brown hair perfectly styled and button down defining his arms _really well_.

The restaurant they’re at is nice, not too upscale but still fancy enough for a first date. Either of them has yet to do something embarrassing that would ruin a first date. All in all, it’s going perfectly fine.

The problem is just that for the life of him, Tommy cannot bring himself to feel anything more than just that; perfectly fine.

There’s no spark, no desire to kiss Joseph and take him home and cook him breakfast in the morning, no desire to do anything other than what he would do with a normal friend.

_Alright_, he thinks to himself, _you just gotta get through this evening, if you still don’t feel a thing at the end you can tell him it won’t work out._ It’s his first real date since he’s moved to LA from San Francisco, set up by Emily after months of making comments about him still being single. Maybe he just needs to get back into the groove, he thinks. Maybe there’s always a weird feeling involved in first dates and he’s just forgotten about it.

So, when it’s his turn to talk, he tells the story about how they had their idea to found a podcast company while pushing Lovett’s car in the burning sun, talks about that time at Ronan’s birthday party when someone almost face-planted in the cake, mentions in passing something funny that happened at one of the White House Correspondence Dinners that Lovett wrote jokes for. He realises that most of his stories centre around Lovett or Ronan or _LovettandRonan_, and that maybe that’s part of the reason why this date feels weird. He pushes that thought deep into the back of his head.

Still, Joseph is nice to talk to. After he shows Tommy pictures of his cat, Tommy in turn shows him pictures of Lucca on his phone. Joseph coos at them.

Then, as Tommy closes the app and puts his phone back on the table, his eyes linger on his lock screen, a picture of Ronan, Lovett and him together in the photobooth at the last Crooked Christmas party. Joseph glances at it, curious.

“So, you didn’t tell me, are you like in an open relationship kind of situation? I honestly don’t mind, but I just wanna know what I’m letting myself in on, you know?”

Tommy frowns.

“What do you mean?”

“Well, I just noticed your phone lock screen, and it kind of looks like you already have some relationship going? And with the way you talked about your _friends_, was it Lovett and Ronan? The way you talked about them earlier, I just figured…” Joseph trails off.

“What, that we’re dating?” Tommy vehemently shakes his head. “No, it’s nothing like that, they’re just friends.”

Joseph furrows his brow. “Alright, then. Sorry for assuming.”

“No, it’s fine, don’t worry.” Tommy smiles at him and leads the conversation back to the saver topic of the baby kitten Joseph is planning to adopt soon.

Joseph looks just as relieved to talk about something else as Tommy feels. Still, as Joseph talks on about the difficulty he’s having with the kitten’s shelter, Tommy can’t help but let his thoughts wander.

He’s not sure what kind of vibe he gave off when talking about Lovett and Ronan that a stranger would pick up on. Sure, this crush he’s having might be getting out of hand, but still, he doesn’t even think that Favs has noticed yet, or he probably would have mentioned something. And yet, Joseph has known him for a little over an hour, at best, and has already figured it out.

He’s so caught up in his own thoughts that he doesn’t hear Joseph’s question about dessert the first two times.

By the third time, it’s clear that Joseph has caught on that Tommy isn’t really into this date, not really.

Tommy apologises with a, “sorry.”

Joseph purses his lips, then says, “Listen, you’re clearly not that into this. I’m sorry if I made you uncomfortable earlier by assuming –”

“No, you didn’t do anything wrong, I just – “

Joseph nods. “Yeah, _you just_. It feels like you might have some stuff to figure out.”

Tommy looks down at his hands.

They sit in silence for a moment, then Joseph says, “Listen, I honestly had fun tonight. If you wanna hang out again I’m down. Just maybe, like, talk to your friends about your feelings?”

“I probably should, shouldn’t I,” Tommy says. Maybe Joseph is right, maybe he needs to talk to Ronan and Lovett, get it out there and then get over it once he eventually gets rejected. _If_, a voice says at the back of his head, _if you get rejected, maybe they’ve been looking, too, maybe they’ve been talking about you too much, too, maybe_ – he shakes his head.

“Okay, look, I think I gotta get going and have a conversation. I’ll pay on my way out; I feel like I owe you one.”

Joseph grins at him. “Don’t worry about it. Go get your men and text me later about how it went. And seriously, the offer to hang out still stands. Platonically, of course, if things go the way you want them to.”

“Thanks. I’ll take you up on that offer.” Tommy exhales, then gets up from his chair. He glances out the big glass windows and realises that a light drizzle has started up outside. _Just when the situation couldn’t be more out of a rom com_, he thinks as he calls a Lyft.

**5 - Tommy**

It’s absolutely pouring down by the time the Lyft pulls up in front of Lovett’s – and Ronan’s – house. Tommy doesn’t get out.

He doesn’t even know why he is here instead of his own house a few blocks away. He should go home.

The Lyft driver looks at him in his rear-view mirror.

“Look, man, I’m sorry, do you think you could drive me some place else?” Tommy asks.

The driver looks at him, shakes his head.

“Bro, you clearly got relationship issues. Go inside, make up with your girlfriend or wife or whatever, don’t cop out now.”

“Oh, it’s not –” Tommy doesn’t know what he wants to say. _It’s not a relationship issue, not really, at least not yet_ or _it’s not my girlfriend _or _it’s not a problem I can fix that easily_. Instead, he says, “it’s raining.”

“Well, better kiss and make up with the missus quickly, then.”

“I’m not sure if –” he looks out at the house, with its lit-up windows looking warm and inviting.

He still doesn’t know what he wants to say, but the driver has clearly had enough of him. “Listen, get out, fix your stuff, and if it all doesn’t work out with her just call another Lyft. It’ll be just my luck if it ends up being me again.”

Tommy nods, more to himself than to the driver.

“Alright. Let’s do this. Thanks, man.”

The driver just waves him off, already turning on his blinker to get back onto the road.

And then Tommy is opening the car door, is getting out and watching the Lyft drive off into the night, and then he’s walking up to the porch with the rain pouring down on him.

His shirt is soaked through in seconds, clothes clinging to his skin. Once again, it hits him how absurdly out of a movie this whole situation is. 

He rings the doorbell.

After a few moments, the door opens. It’s Lovett, looking back into the house over his shoulder, in the middle of a sentence, “– didn’t order any Postmates, did you – ”

When he sees Tommy, he falls silent. Takes in the – probably miserable – picture in front of him.

“Shit, Tommy, get inside, what the fuck are you doing, are you drunk?”

Tommy shakes his head and moves past Lovett into the warmth of the house. 

“What the fuck happened with you? Weren’t you supposed to be on a date tonight?”

“Yeah, uh, that didn’t really work out…”

Lovett interrupts him, “Whatever, come on in first, let me get you some dry clothes.” He moves through the house towards his bedroom – his and Ronan’s, Tommy remembers, suddenly, and where is Ronan, anyway? – Tommy follows him, accepts the clothes Lovett hands him and mumbles his thanks as Lovett leaves the room so he can change.

He peels out of his wet clothes and puts on the sweatpants – probably Ronan’s, but still too short for him at the ankles – and T-shirt – a Friend of the Pod one that’s probably Lovett’s, but still too tight across his shoulders, even if Lovett’s been getting broader recently, which is a line of thought he really doesn’t want to get into now, just like he doesn’t want to think about how both of them would probably drown in fabric if they were to wear _his_ clothes, this is really not the moment for these kind of thoughts, and now he’s spiralling, he really should go out to wherever the two of them are right now.

He finds them in the living room.

Ronan is sat on the sofa under a blanket, book on his lap and glasses on his nose, hair adorably tousled. Lovett is pacing up and down the room, shoulders tense. He’s running a hand through his hair repeatedly, making his curls even unrulier than usually. Tommy wants nothing more than to tangle his fingers in them and pull Lovett close to kiss him.

He stands in the doorway for a moment, not sure how to strike up a conversation about why he burst in on them like this on a random Friday night, but, as if he senses his apprehension, Ronan looks up and smiles at him, warm and welcoming.

“Hi, Tommy.”

And Tommy, well, he’s hopeless at this. He smiles back, and he’s sure that every single thought in his head is readable on his face.

Lovett stops his pacing and looks at him with raised eyebrows.

“Wanna tell us why the fuck you showed up in the middle of the night, unannounced and soaking wet?” His voice is just as tense as the rest of his body, but there still is an underlying note of fondness. A flicker of hope settles into Tommy’s stomach.

Ronan huffs. “Jonathan, we talked about your bedside manner,” he says, amusement laced into his reprimanding tone. He’s still looking at Tommy. “You don’t have to tell us anything, if you don’t want to, we can just hang out.”

Tommy shakes his head. Hanging out with them without talking what’s on his mind is the last thing he wants to do right now.

Ronan nods, as if to himself. Tommy can see the gears turning inside his head, trying to figure out how to talk to him. He hates himself for confusing them like this, but somehow, he can’t seem to get the words out right now.

“Alright,” Ronan says. “Jonathan, sit down, please.” Lovett, where he’s taken up pacing again, stops in his tracks. Pulls a face. Sits down next to Ronan so that both of them are looking at Tommy, expectantly. He hesitates a moment, then sits down on the armchair opposite them.

“Did something happen with your date, tonight?” Ronan asks.

“Kind of?”

Both of their eyebrows rise up in sync. Tommy hates that he finds it endearing.

“Well, wanna tell us about it?” Lovett says. He’s clearly not trying to be too pushy, too intense, but it wouldn’t be Lovett if he wasn’t at least _somewhat_ too pushy, too intense.

“Uh, so, it didn’t work out, I guess?” He hates himself for reading too much into the tiniest movement of Lovett’s hands at this, the way Ronan’s shoulders seem to drop a bit of their tension.

“He… made some assumptions about my relationship status that weren’t right, but then I couldn’t stop thinking about them, and then we both decided we should probably end it… and now I’m here.”

Ronan and Lovett exchange a look.

“What kind of assumptions did he make, Tommy?”

_This is the moment_, Tommy thinks, _tell them, now, get it over with and you’ll know_. But as he looks at these two men sitting across from him, he is suddenly filled with so much love for them he almost chokes on it, and the words won’t come over his lips, and apparently, he hesitates for too long, because Lovett exchanges a look with Ronan, nods to himself, gets up from the sofa and moves across the space between the couch and the armchair.

“I’m gonna do something, and I’m sorry if we read this all wrong, but – “ he bites his lip and moves so close that Tommy has to tilt his head up to look at him, and he stares at Tommy’s face with an urgency Tommy has never seen on him, and, apparently, he finds whatever he’s looking for, because then he leans down and presses their lips together.

For a second, Tommy’s brain short-circuits.

Tommy’s brain short-circuits and he doesn’t know what to do, and then Lovett pulls back and starts saying something about_ sorry, shit, I’m sorry_, and then Tommy’s brain is up and running again and his hands come up to fist in Lovett’s shirt, drawing him close again, kissing him with everything he’s got.

When they pull apart after a few breathless seconds, minutes, hours, for all Tommy knows, Lovett is beaming at him. Tommy mirrors it with every ounce of his being.

He turns to look over at Ronan, who is smiling just as wide. He quirks his eyebrows at him, watches as Ronan’s smile transforms into something else – and then Tommy exhales a laugh, suddenly, abruptly, because he _knows_ them. Knows them so well that he knows every look on their face, and he knows that this is how Ronan looks when he is daring him to do something, and he realises that it was ridiculous for him to ever be scared that this might go wrong.

“Come here,” Ronan says, voice low.

So Tommy gets up, brushes past Lovett – closer than he technically has to, but why let the opportunity go to waste now that he has it – and drops down onto the couch next to Ronan, one foot on the ground, the other pulled up.

Ronan looks at him, still barely even moving in his position. Tommy leans forward, just enough for their lips to almost touch, leaving a hair of space between them, waiting –

And then Ronan is kissing him, and then Ronan’s hand tangles in his hair and pulls him closer, and then his own hand finds its way under Ronan’s shirt and up his back, and then Ronan smiles against his lips and Tommy smiles back, and then they’re giggling into each other’s mouths, because, apparently, Ronan is just as elated as Tommy is about this new development.

Tommy pulls away by a smidge, just enough to turn his head and look at Lovett again.

He’s still standing by the armchair, arms crossed over his chest. There’s a fond smile on his face that doesn’t look any different from how he looks at either of them normally, but Tommy gets it now, because this smile has been directed at him for years and he realises that he’s never once seen it thrown at Favs or any of their other friends. It’s a smile exclusively for Ronan and Pundit and, Tommy understands, for him.

It seems as though he is not the only one who has been pining.

Ronan is looking back and forth between him and Lovett with a grin that might yet split his face in two, it’s that wide. “Just to clarify,” he says, “Jonathan and I really, really like you and we’d love for you to date us, if that’s what you want, too.”

“I’d love that.” Tommy says. His voice feels raw, all of a sudden. He clears his throat. “I might’ve talked about you two a bit too much to my date tonight, to the point that he sent me here to figure my shit out.”

Lovett laughs, bright and full of joy. “By the way, gotta leave it to you to make the most dramatic entrance ever.”

“Well, I’m sorry, but I didn’t see you making any kind of move, dramatic or not.”

“Alright, you two. I hate to be the practical one, but we can’t spend all evening grinning at each other dumbly,” Ronan says. “How about a drink and a discussion of logistics before anything develops any further?”

Tommy flops back against the couch and groans.

Ronan lays a hand on his shin. “You survived years of pining, you’ll survive another hour or so,” he says dryly.

“Years? You must think very highly of yourself,” Tommy retorts without really meaning it, easily falling back into their usual banter.

Ronan raises an eyebrow with a smirk that is way too smug. “Is it not true?”

Tommy can’t keep his grin at bay. “It is.”

At that point, Lovett leans down and presses a kiss to Tommy’s lips, then another, lingering one to Ronan’s. “Whiskey?”

“Sure,” Tommy says.

With his face scrunched up in fondness, Lovett looks at them, Ronan still sat up mostly straight on the couch, Tommy sprawled out on it, legs now all over Ronan’s lap. As Tommy looks back, he lets the smell of their clothes and the warmth of their house and the sound of the rain still pouring down outside engulf him. His gaze moves over to Ronan, who’s beaming, eyes flicking back and forth between them.

“I’ll go get it, then,” Lovett says after watching them for another minute or so. And, when neither of them moves, “I see how it’s gonna be, me serving you with beverages, you two just lazing around –“

Tommy squawks. “Excuse me, I bring you coffee to the office every morning –”

“Well, how about the other day when –”

And they’re off again.

**(+1 - Lovett)**

Getting strawberry mimosas for the three of them was definitely a mistake.

Lovett tuned out his boyfriends’ discussion on philosophy a long time ago, opting instead to scroll through Twitter. However, he does look up at the two of them sitting across from him at the table every now and then and every time he does so, his eyes linger on their lips, tinted red from the mimosas, moving fast in agitation as they fight over something that Lovett knows they almost entirely have the same opinion on. He doesn’t really care for what they’re discussing but he really can’t stop staring and it’s definitely becoming a problem.

Ronan is getting heated up about _something, something, Camus was right about absurdism_, wildly impaling the last pieces of his fruit salad and waving his fork all over the place, cheeks flushed the same shade as his lips. Whenever he takes a break to eat what’s on his fork, Tommy counters his statements with _something, something, absurdism isn’t the same as nihilism_, to which Ronan exclaims something about how, _the term nihilism is often misused_, to which Tommy says something like, _anyways, Camus was really hot_.

Lovett looks from one to the other as they both grin, and then they throw themselves back in, slinging around terms that Lovett, to his great regret, actually somewhat understands, having picked up some things over years while sitting with them as they have these discussions. The perks of having nerdy philosopher boyfriends, he guesses. He hides his smile at the fluttering his stomach does at the word ‘_boyfriends’_.

However, he doesn’t particularly feel like getting into the deeper theories of existentialism on what was supposed to be a relaxed Sunday morning brunch date and he’s still distracted with both of their pink lips and he knows that these fights can escalate into really good sex, and all in all, he just really wants to drag them both back to his and Ronan’s house, which has increasingly become _their_ house over the past few months, Tommy spending the better part of his time there with them.

Luckily for him, right then the waitress comes over to their table.

“Can I get you guys anything else?”

“No thanks,” Lovett decides with a quick glance at his boyfriends. “Just the check, please.”

The waitress takes their empty plates and leaves again. Ronan pouts.

“I wanted another mimosa.”

Lovett shrugs. “Alright, you’re welcome to stay behind. Tommy and I can go home and amuse ourselves without you for a while.”

Ronan’s eyebrows rise up at this. “Oh, is that so?”

Tommy, who has been following their exchange in silence, interrupts them with a, “Guys, please – “, and just then, the waitress comes back.

“Here you go,” she says as she hands Lovett the check and leaves them to it. Lovett gets out his card and writes down the tip.

“Can you at least _pretend_ to be bad at math and calculating the tip, like us normal gays?” Tommy asks him, his face crinkled into a smile.

“Excuse me, it’s not my fault that all you heathens don’t appreciate the beauty that is mathematics. And don’t you dare draw one of those ‘all gays can only do two of these’ triangle, I can do math, drive, and cook, thank you very much.”

Tommy scoffs. “We all know I’m the cook in the household, please, be realistic about your abilities. No one likes a smartass.”

“You do,” Lovett says with waggling eyebrows.

“Yeah, sadly I do,” Tommy sighs in a way too over-exaggerated manner and leans back in his chair.

The waitress returns, card reader in hand.

Lovett hands her his card and enters his pin into the reader, then waits for her to print out the receipt.

Ronan grins at him. “Thanks for treating. I’ll make it up to you later.” He throws Lovett a look that tells him just how he’ll make it up to him. Tommy elbows him, tilting his head towards the waitress, who is still waiting for the receipt to print. Ronan stomps on his foot, hard enough for Tommy to move a bit to the side and elbow him again.

Lovett just shakes his head as he watches them roughhouse and sends the waitress an apologetic smile. “Sorry about them.” He nods towards the duo still tussling together as she finally hands him the receipt.

“Don’t worry about it,” she replies. “My brother and I are the same, that’s just how siblings are! Have a good day, you guys!”

Lovett’s eyebrows shoot through the roof.

Ronan and Tommy freeze, Ronan’s arm over Tommy’s shoulder in an attempt to pull him in a headlock.

They look at each other.

“Did she just seriously think that you two are brothers?” Lovett asks.

Tommy presses his lips together. Ronan inhales. It’s silent for another moment, then all three of them burst into laughter. 

“I think so?” Ronan says.

“Brothers, holy shit,” Tommy says.

Lovett just giggles in his seat.

Tommy’s face is a lot pinker than a few minutes ago. “We don’t even look that similar!” He exclaims. “Just because we’re both blond doesn’t mean we’re related!”

Ronan’s laughter has died down, now stuck at a chuckle. “If only she knew that…” He trails off, but Lovett knows what he wanted to say. _If only she knew that we’re dating_, _if only she knew that we hold hands and that we kiss and that we basically live together at this point and that we’re definitely so, so much more than brothers_.

He takes a deep breath then and gets up from his chair. “I say we go back home and pick up our line of thought from earlier.

“The one about brothers?” Ronan asks, big, shit-eating grin on his face.

Tommy hits him against his chest and gets up, too. “Stop, please. That’s gross.”

Ronan puts an arm around Tommy’s waist as they make their way outside and smirks at him. “Don’t worry, honey, I’ll stop once we get home.”

Lovett follows behind them until they get to Tommy’s car, which is where he stops and asks, “Wait, whose turn is it to drive?”

“Well,” Ronan says with an even bigger smirk than before, “I believe I owe you for brunch. How about Tommy drives and you come sit in the back with me?”

They all get in, Lovett and Ronan in the backseat and Tommy behind the wheel.

Tommy turns to look at them, eyes flickering down to where their hands are intertwined. He pouts. “Well, this just isn’t fair, is it?”

Lovett grins. “Sucks to be you, I guess.” Tommy’s lips are still tinted pink from the mimosas earlier. Lovett leans forward and presses a kiss to them. “Relax, you’ll get your fair share of affection when we’re home.”

Tommy smiles, then, wide and happy, corners of his eyes crinkling.

“Yeah,” he says, voice soft, “I know.”

They drive home.

**Author's Note:**

> comments, kudus, feedback, thoughts on existentialism etc. are all much appreciated !


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